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I W A N T T H E W O R L D , A N D I W A N T I T N O W ♡

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What In The World

Many blogs lie in the cold desolate wasteland of the drafts section of my profile; cherry picking this one cause I’m not sure how much my whining anger wants to be displayed.

Days of procrastination: 16

And as tubular as having everyone think I’m a complete piss wreck is, I want them to forget for just a moment, since I don’t want that to be all I ever was.

Before I begin I want to dedicate this blog to the absolute fuck that is chipotle employees. I did not personally curate your schedule to suck, and thereby should not have to pay for it with your dumpster fire attitude.

Oh you never know what someone is going through!

I agree, that also applies to everyone else. I’ll make it simple (you may still not understand).

Leave your shit at the door, or don’t come inside.

I almost wish those terrible enough at their job were fired until I think about how disposable and replaceable they are, and realize it may just get worse.

Now onto what I actually want to write about.

All I hear is what exactly pushes peoples to choose their career.

Money. Power. Fame. Success.

The usual.

Never have I seen the answer I seek.

- Because I want to make my own life, and this is a big part of it. The life I wanted.

It’s depressing. Thinking about how many people don’t get to do what the children inside wanted to.

And not so secretly everyday, the children are in cages, being killed.

I understand the circumstances in life don’t always work out for everyone, and that includes career, it just eventually reaches a level astounding me.

Do you wake up everyday dreading to go to work? Are you just content, satisfied on the 9-5? Does your career give you a reason to die for?

And to those who want or wanted a life around a certain career;

Where is your life?

Sometimes I feel the need for a personal Q&A to the most miserable and “successful” people. Maybe everyone inbetween.

I also must realize most (?) people are just alright with having an average life. Not needing anymore than what they’ve earned, and not making an effort to get more. Some expect everything to be handed, never worked for, and in the end get nothing at all.

Cruel shitstorm; obnoxious-life so don’t be remembered as trash.

Well while I have my mind, I’ll make the answer I’m looking for mine. So a mind fried teenager may ask one day and maybe not leave disappointed.

There’s life to live, and to use someone else’s as a portrait of what or what not to do seems like an ugly-pretty start.

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I’m Not Hungry And Never Will Be

As we all lightly tread across this thick layer of broken glass set not to disturb fat people, it’s met with a cloud of cotton candy and fluffed faux-fur (we can’t upset the vegans) wool blankets, to make stepping on skinny people feel mighty comfortable.

I don’t want to go to the beach or pool showing anymore than my face unless it is to drown myself in the water.

I will never feel hungry in my life. From buffet to bed-bound, you couldn’t force a vanilla marshmallow pudding in my loud mouth.

My exaggeration hopefully burrows itself into the part of your brain that calls me ridiculous. That’s what I’m aiming for.

But body dysmorphia is a little too label for me, I prefer nasty skinny. I’d be right too. Fat people are fat, as I am unhealthily fragile.

The bells rings dinners ready!

Just guess if I’m hungry. Seriously guess, I bought a bell for this.

No doubt I wasn’t, so I shoved my food down to the fat people I keep below the table and sprayed them the rest of my cherry coke.

Please give me one more reason to bring fat people up. I always have enough dread to share with the class.

Maybe it’s envy. Maybe it’s because I would lacerate your weight just to be stitched to me. Everyone knows the scale can’t see.

I crave my weight to break the pressured plates and glass within the scale, while still be thin enough to fly away in the wind, and remain freezing in 100° weather.

As we’ve established, we’re all ugly in a way, I just take pounds of comfort in using a personal tumblr page as a public outlet.

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Phony Matrimony

Woke up today, so naturally I’m feeling disgusted at the world, and have already prepared myself to scream into my screen.

Hold on I’m spinning my ‘how and why do we as humans even entertain this idea or belief even though it’s so ridiculously beyond absurdity’ wheel.

Marriage; complete joke.

Except I’m not laughing. I’m wishing everyone would drill a little deeper into their dense vacant craniums and pull out an authentic benefit for mindcontrolmarriage.com

I’ll wait… forever. There is none.

Surprised?

I once again come to terms I can’t stand seeing people happy, especially if that’s in a relationship, and especially if said relationship is constituted as a marriage.

It means absolutely nothing except breaking up with what you soon realize is a walking, talking nightmare is that much harder now. Have fun giving up half of your shit too because you’re too eternally bonded to keep that bank account.

I’d want to attend a marriage though. And no before you froth foam from the mouth, it’s in no way a sinister or hateful attendance.

I just like wedding cake and roses.

The watching of someone I probably care about prob-tentially destroying what they have worked a life for is just the bottom con.

‘Only’ half end in divorce? Huh, it seems everyone gets married twice.

So much for vows anyway. Empty words wrapped in sad faulty bows, and with time, are rendered meaningless.

But like everything, relationships decay, and what goes up, must come down, and it usually shatters your skull. That warm glitter you find in someone’s eyes when you first wake up next to them never survives.

Their coffee tastes like shit and they spilled the orange juice at breakfast again. By the way its already your turn to take the trash out.

Something something, glimmer dies, vows suck, ugly children.

Yeah I think the family tree doesn’t need another court appointment when my robot psycho sleeping next to me decides to murder my self worth.

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Shower, Plastic Prudes

Honestly… you’re a transparent loser.

I’m so sure of this because you talk shit about people, constantly. I watch you. So do they. You probably do it without even realizing.

That, and I also know everything.

You pretend to get along well with others, you can’t stand anyone. Perhaps for your own benefit or self confidence.

You’re high and mighty, quartz throne to your personal castle, (your hallways smell like piss and you don’t even invite anyone inside.)

What’s that? You’re actually a good person? Why do you state this? Does your self worth feel threatened? Now look, you’re a melting mess. Turn off your screen and stare at yourself in the black reflection.

Maybe don’t believe everything you are told.

Especially on a no life teenage boys tumblr page. Following such a flawed idea, your judgement rots as you read.

If you’re offended, big deal. Everyone is. I was talking to everyone. Everyone on planet fuck is everything I have just described them as.

If you’re not, you’ve drawn the lines between bitter and better. Possibly a -better than bitter person- must dissociate with rest of world.

Or you know I don’t know what I’m meant to know.

Bitter better pitter patter thinner fatter.

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Suck Fummer!

All my miserable mess of mind wants to do from June to October is whine about how hot it is.

I don’t blame it. I personally would never want to sign up for multiple sticky and itchy 110° months, who would?

I do eventually have to accept at some point I may just be classified a ‘hater.’ Question mark whatever.

Well haters gotta hate, and I will. Abolish the humid hell that poses as summer, and possibly a little of my inside anger will subside temporarily.

But yum, don’t you love triple digit fahrenheit numbers?

Oh yes ice cream man who makes half his salary off these very 4 months, my -very room temperature- dead body sure does! Flip the summer switch and turn it back on after my rotting carcass starts to scare those loud blue tongue children away.

Sitting here and biting on the beach would be a thumbs down though. Everyday? Impractical. Occasionally though, I yearn nothing more than my marine paradise.

Add it to the list of reasons why I keep personally suggesting death needs to come with an annual free trial. Lousy bastard never replies to my phone calls. Anyway I feel like burning in hell right about now, it would be cooler.

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Herd Your Sheep, Lost Farmer

4th of July, way too humid. What was going to be a, -once again praying to gain weight at the restaurant we were at- was a stream of distraction by what they had chose to show on TV.

Hotdog eating contest.

And I have never religiously watched any, or cared to. It just had me thinking.

Why?

I unfortunately understand the appeal of what is mostly mindless television entertainment, and this could easily fit that notion. I often question it, in my own head.

But things like this make those thoughts painfully apparent.

How much did everyone genuinely enjoy watching?

Was there absolutely nothing more arresting or even faux-interesting than a watching grown adults drown in bread water and saliva meat?

Wait wait, it’s just american tradition…

Then dear my mother goose in the sky, please start questioning what is excused by tradition, because it probably sucks!

You’re a bitter hypocrite, I watch you also consume mindless zombie media!

I do. I do not allow myself to be controlled by it. Are you?

Maybe. How much do you care?

I watched, and got into it. I do not regret it, I ponder my interest.

Before you ready your hot iron, hair trigger tongue to fire with, “you’re not better than anyone for not dying in a pool of kardashianism and mumble rap”

Think about why you would even think that thought. Gain a reason worth talking to yourself about.

Do I look too deep into it? Undoubtedly. Though without people who look too deep, those who live in shallow water will never leave.

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Seventeen

Is this a good time to comment on what is left of my childhood? Well I hate looking at it that way, it really only feels like an end.

I feel no warm welcome to adulthood, only unclarity.

Maybe it’s normal. Can someone tell me what normal even means anymore? Nothing I suppose.

There is life to look forward to though. At least I would hope. Stimulation for the messy and youthful.

I am already tired of not knowing. Tired of hearing I have nothing to be tired about. It misses the point. Can I be tired if I’m asleep? Either way, wake up.

I’m well uncertain, but I know I should be. For some of it I guess.

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You Don’t Run The World!

Keep your teeth in your mouth, I tell myself everything I tell others.

Honestly, most people don’t care about you. Some people don’t even care for themselves.

You’re not the center of the universe. I know, I’m pissed too.

It’s not a bad thing right? So stop thinking it is. You are your own world, that’s it. Try acting like it, and try harder to let people live in theirs.

Anyway I know you dont have shit to do, neither do I. If you didn’t take anything from this re-read it. Or don’t it doesn’t really matter.